


the world in her hands (pulsing, breathing)

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existentialism, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Anguish, Self Esteem Issues, sprt of, v-vent???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23124022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: “seeing her filled with so much sorrow is unusual, but over the years, the goddess of darkness has adjusted to the unfortunate days. every god falters.it’s the way it must be.“(or, the goddesses of light and darkness talk)
Relationships: Ikusaba Mukuro/Maizono Sayaka
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	the world in her hands (pulsing, breathing)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celestial_nova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestial_nova/gifts).



the maiden of darkness, god of shadows and deceit, rest and wicked, finds her parallel sitting in the void, holding the world tightly.

with feather-like steps, darkness approaches her, sharing the universe’s glow between them as she kneels and looks at the goddess of light’s face. her fair, usually sunny, features are downcast and hopeless. seeing her filled with so much sorrow is unusual, but over the years, the goddess of darkness has adjusted to the unfortunate days. every god falters.

it’s the way it must be.

“what’s plaguing your mind, light?” darkness asks gently, her voice a raspy whisper. 

lightness hardly hesitates. they only have each other to confide in (and priests, but there’s hardly direct communication, and gods are not vulnerable to humans). “do you ever feel like the mortals just love you for what you’ve made? what you fundamentally are?” her eyes, dripping with morning dew, are fixated at the world in her hands. “and yet, they never think about the struggles you’ve actually created?”

the other sighs quietly and shifts, her dress of dark silk painting a galaxy. “no mortal has ever loved what i’ve made. i bring darkness, fear, anxiety. you bring harvest.  _ life _ .”

“work.” her voice wavers. “heat. exhaustion.”

“you cradle every piece of living in your arms. i am the void that goes amiss. the space behind the stars. void.” she brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear, gloves crinkling as she does. “few mortals treat me, or my creations, kindly.”

“are they not your creations?”

“they are  _ our  _ creations, and they loathe the darkness inside.”

“they do not,” she insists.

her lip curls in a sardonic smirk. “humans crave to destroy themselves. their hatred, their wrath, their avarice bred in humility… they strive for destruction. and who laid the foundation for resentment? who resents more than any god, any creature?”

her hair, the color of oceans and the sky, turns a darker color. she breathes in deeply as she looks at the goddess of night, who has rested her conviction in dark ink. eventually, the light speaks, “who do you resent? me?”

“no.” she lies. her truth is easy to detect; darkness only shrouds thieves that fear being caught. rogues let coins slip through clothed fingers when they desire intervention, someone to slip them a piece of bread wrapped in cloth. 

the day intervenes, “i do not know how to be resented, m-“

“are you using our mortal names?” darkness asks in muted surprise.

“it’s untraditional and obsolete, i am aware, but what else would i call you?”

“archdemon?” she suggests. at the other’s sad expression, she sighs. “that was a jest. call me darkness.”

“you deserve a better title.”

her tone turns a bit sharp, like bitter blackberries burnt in a blaze. “i am darkness, maiden of light, so call me that.”

“no,” the other protests, her voice as sweet as ever. it resonates with the sonorous quality of pixies, light and soaring through setting suns. “you are more than that.” her confession tints her face a light pink, and the darkness struggles to identify it as the color of rosemary. the fragrance of the day is akin to rosemary, occasionally— honeysuckle, too. the night likely carries the scent of nothing. maybe the sweat of thieves or the subtle smell of primrose. nothing she would describe as beautiful.

and yet, her face burns ever so slightly. “you flatter me for nothing.”

the light’s eyes look like opalite, orchards of fruit and rocky coasts glimmering in the iris. lashes shroud the sight a little, but the darkness appreciates it. she wonders what can be seen in her grey eyes.

“you are my sole companion,” the light explains. “being a god is lonely. the people do not love you.”

“they hate you for what they caused,” she sympathizes.

the day shakes her head, “i brought misery.”

“and you brought hope. what did your humans do with that?”

her expression softens. “hope is an existence we both created. it’s entirely theirs. and they have it, maiden of the dark. i assure you.”

“what do you think it feels like?” the question slips out before she can close her blue lips and shiver. the other seems to feel the question as though it is a wave, undulating in symphonies and harmony. 

she is silent for a long time, her eyes on the world she holds, before she says, “i don’t know. all i can muster these days,  _ eons _ , is guilt. look at what i’ve made,” her voice raises as she gestures to the world, her hair rippling violently. “look what i’ve done! they lack humility, tripping over themselves with delusions of power and light, when i have taken  _ everything  _ from decrepit hands. the world will set ablaze before the work day ends.  _ mukuro _ !” the darkness can see hurricanes in the other’s eyes. “what can i do?”

“don’t give up on them,” she raises her dark glove and places it on the bringer of light’s cheek. “you can’t lose yourself to guilt, light. this is what you were made to do. people have built shrines for you with nothing but the shirt on their back, and you have seen your creations, crafted with love, riot. humans will love you, hate you, and view you with indifference. that’s the way it must be.”

“do you love me?” the question is abrupt, but not entirely unexpected.

the harbinger of darkness intertwines her fingers with the fair hand of the other goddess. she curls them together and looks her in the eyes, “i do.”

“because you must?” her voice shakes. “you loathe me too, mukuro.”

she sighs and averts her eyes, “that’s the way it must be,” she echoes.  _ i hate the way you speak my name,  _ she longs to say, but she has restraint. when she speaks again, she has more control of her voice, “you have my loyalty forever, anytime you ask for it. i will follow you. my heart lies with yours.”

the goddess of light slumps, clutching the world tight to her chest as her face falls. darkness holds her hand tighter and kisses it gently, looking up as she feels the other shake. “stay strong, goddess,” she murmurs, “they need you.”

the universe pulses in her hands.

**Author's Note:**

> for celestial_nova because i adore her too much. please please PLEASE read her works
> 
> AHEM i have a break from school upcoming so it may be time to tackle my seventy five projects!!! expect,,, stuff. yea.
> 
> i don’t know if this is a vent but y’know it exists i’m fine now but,,, it b deep
> 
> okay bye stay safe don’t die ly thanks for reading


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